Stone Princess

by Devney Perry

  “He thought once he had me and Scarlett safe, it would be over.”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t think it would have ended any other way.”

  “Me neither,” I whispered.

  During the sleepless nights of the past ten days, I’d thought a lot about what had led to the blast of Jeremiah’s gun. He’d been so desperate, so manic. He’d known what fate awaited him, and rather than leave his death to the Warriors, he’d taken it upon himself.

  We’d lost Jeremiah long before he’d burst into my home.

  “Bye, Luke.”

  He nodded once. “Take care, Presley.”

  “I’ll be back on Monday.”

  “I assumed you would.” He chuckled as I walked out the door.

  Until I knew where Scarlett was, I’d hound Luke for answers. He wouldn’t be at the station this weekend so I couldn’t swing by to pepper him with questions, but I’d be texting often. There were advantages to having the chief of police’s personal cell phone number.

  I made my way through the bullpen to the exit. Luke had stopped escorting me out yesterday—I knew where I was going. The short dash from the station to my Jeep chased away any warmth I’d found inside. I brushed the heavy snowflakes from my jeans and hair, then cranked the heat as I drove to the garage.

  When I arrived, Shaw was in the chair across from my desk, waiting.

  “I brought you soup.” He stood and kissed my cheek as I shrugged off my coat and dumped it beside my desk.

  “Thank you.” I warmed my hands on the bowl before taking off the lid and stirring it with my spoon.

  “What did Luke say?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I muttered. “He won’t tell me where she’s at.”

  “Let’s just hope he hasn’t called in the DEA.”

  None of us knew what Scarlett had seen in her time at the Arrowhead Warrior clubhouse. Worst-case scenario: federal investigators got involved, hoping to use Scarlett as a tool against the Warriors to take down the gang. She’d be a pawn.

  She’d become more of a target than she already was.

  I was holding out faith that my sister was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. If Luke had no reason to use her as an informant, eventually he’d let her go.

  Especially if we could get some assurances that the Warriors no longer thought she was a thief.

  Dash had been forced to make another call to Tucker Talbot and explain that Scarlett had not stolen drugs from the Warriors. Tucker had listened but made no assurances he believed Dash.

  Too much money had been stolen.

  Which meant we were at a standstill. Either the DEA would show up in Clifton Forge or the Warriors would start hunting for my sister.

  “I hate this.” I sighed. “I hate that she’s missing.”

  “I know, baby, but it’s better this way.” Shaw gave me a sad smile. “Until things settle down, it’s safer for both of you if she’s gone.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled into my soup.

  “I called my dad this morning.”

  The spoon fell from my hand, splattering tomato basil on my desk. “You did?”

  He nodded. “I actually talked to him once earlier. Just didn’t get a chance to tell you. But I called him today too. I needed to talk it through.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He thinks I made the right call. Dad said it probably would have ended that way, no matter what happened.”

  “Luke said the same.” I stretched my hand across the desk.

  His large grip enveloped mine. “You talking about me?”

  “You’re my favorite topic.” I squeezed his fingers. “I know you feel guilty, but this is not your fault. Jeremiah made his choice.”

  Shaw hummed, rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, then let me go. It would take time, but I had faith he’d eventually come to terms with his guilt.

  The door to the shop opened and Emmett stepped inside. Isaiah was right behind him.

  “Hey, guys.” Emmett came over and shook Shaw’s hand.

  Isaiah clapped Shaw on the shoulder before sitting down.

  If there’d been any worry that Shaw wouldn’t fit right in here, those fears were long forgotten. A hostage situation had a way of proving loyalty and sincerity.

  “What are you doing today?” Emmett asked Shaw as he took his lunch out of the fridge.

  “Not much. I had some work to do this morning but it’s pretty well wrapped. Why?”

  “Leo is finishing up with some pinstripes on a hood in the booth, then he’s convinced me to leave early for a beer at The Betsy. Want to come?”

  “I can’t.” He grinned at me. “I have a date tonight.”

  “A date?” I raised an eyebrow. Since when did we have a date? “Who’s the lucky woman?”

  “I’m picking you up at four. Can you leave early? We need to make a stop before dinner.”

  “I’ll cover the office until closing,” Isaiah offered.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and ate a spoonful of soup, listening to the guys spend their lunch break telling Shaw about the car they were working on. When they’d nearly convinced him to buy it for my next birthday, they’d returned to the shop to finish up for the day, leaving the two of us alone once more.

  “Did you talk to your landlord today?” Shaw asked.

  “Yes. I feel so bad for her. How’s she going to rent out the house where a man held two women hostage, then committed suicide?”

  “Want me to buy it from her and bulldoze it to the ground?”

  “Yes, please.” I was joking. Sort of.

  I’d loved that house. It had been the springboard for my life in Clifton Forge. It had been my sanctuary. Seeing it now, dark and haunted, was destroying the beautiful memories.

  “Done.” Shaw nodded. “Consider it gone.”

  “I was joking.”

  “I’m not. If flattening that house makes your life easier, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “How about instead, we cover the mortgage until my landlord can rent it out? Then I won’t feel guilty about leaving.”

  “Okay. But if you change your mind . . .” He crashed his fists together, making the sound of an explosion.

  “Deal.” I giggled.

  “There’s something else I wanted to run past you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I won’t like this?”

  “Keep an open mind.” He winked. “I have a movie premiere in two weeks. Will you come with me?”

  “This movie? Our movie?” I gulped. It wasn’t really my movie, but he got the point.

  “No.” He shook his head. “That won’t be out for another year or so.”

  Good. I’d need time to think about that one. Maybe in a year, I’d be more willing to see the film. Even then, I wouldn’t go to support the movie. I’d only go to stand beside Shaw, to show him I was proud of his accomplishment and that he’d taken a risk beyond his typical role.

  “What movie?” I asked.

  “It’s an action film I shot about a year ago.”

  “I like action films.” I tapped my chin. “Define movie premiere.”

  “Red carpet. Tuxedo. Gown.”

  I groaned. “I’m going to have to smile a lot, aren’t I?”

  Shaw laughed and stood, rounding my desk to drop a kiss on my forehead. “But it’s such a beautiful smile.”

  My heart fluttered. “Always the sweet talker.”

  “I’m taking that as a yes and leaving before you change your mind.” Shaw gathered up the trash from our lunch and dumped it in the trash can, then put on his coat. “Four o’clock.”

  “I’ll be ready.” I stood and escorted him to the door, waiting in the threshold as he brushed off the snowflakes from his truck’s windshield.

  I was going to a Hollywood movie premiere. I was in love with a bona fide movie star.

  Shaw Valance.

  Shaw Valance

  Shaw Valance.

  There were only so many ways to interpre
t two words. Only so many ways to alter their meaning with inflection.

  But no matter how many times I said his name in my head, Shaw Valance would always be mine.

  Shaw Valance was the man who’d brought me soup at lunch because he knew how cold I got in the office. He was the man who knew how much I loved my job and would support me working here for as long as it made me happy, no matter how many dollars he could charge on his credit card. He was the man who’d opened my heart. Who’d become my other half.

  Shaw tossed his snow brush into the backseat. “Go inside before you freeze.”

  “Okay.” I smiled but didn’t move. “Shaw?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I love you.” The words drifted through the snow, causing a wide smile to spread across his face.

  “See you at four.” He winked, then got into his truck and disappeared.

  My feet floated to my desk. My fingers were lighter than they’d been in days as they flew across the keyboard, wrapping things up for the week.

  Shaw loved me, but he’d never said I love you—three words, in that order.

  He was always the one to make the move first. He’d ask, I’d answer. He gave me that control. There was something freeing about making the statement first—putting myself out there so he knew it wasn’t always about me responding to him.

  I was nearly done with work for the day, anxious for Shaw to pick me up, when my phone dinged. I opened it to a text from Bryce.

  At the grocery store.

  That was the caption to a picture of Luke Rosen carrying a woman in a fireman’s hold out the front doors.

  Except it wasn’t just a woman.

  It was Scarlett.

  Was that his idea of protective custody? Of being safe? Clearly, he’d underestimated Scarlett.

  “You better know what you’re doing, Rosen,” I muttered to the screen.

  Then I texted him the same, getting a reply ten minutes later.

  She’s safe.

  She’d better be.

  “Where are we?” My boots crunched as I followed Shaw into a field.

  The snow had stopped falling an hour ago and the sun was about to set. The air was frigid and the breeze bit through my red parka.

  Shaw had mentioned taking a long vacation to California to meet his family and with the weather like it was, that sounded better every second.

  “Close your eyes.” Shaw took my hand.

  “Okay.” I obeyed as he stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest.

  The chill from the wind was gone, chased away as he shrouded me with his tall frame.

  “Straight ahead of you will be the barn.”

  “The bar—”

  “Don’t open your eyes.”

  I frowned, closing them again. “Closed.”

  “You can pick the color, but I vote for red.”

  “A red barn.” My heart skipped. “Okay.”

  Maybe he was planning on building Clifton Forge’s first petting zoo, but my mind jumped to a much better use for this property, hoping the land ten miles out of town, nestled beside the river and surrounded by trees, was for something more personal.

  He spun us to the right ninety degrees, our feet shuffling as we swayed. “This will be the guest house.”

  A smile cracked my face. “What kind of guests?”

  “My parents. My sisters. Your sister.”

  “I like those guests.”

  “And this”—he spun us again, this time only forty-five degrees—“this is where we’ll have our house.”

  “What kind of house?” I asked.

  “A happy one.”

  Shaw always had the right answer.

  My entire life, all I’d wanted was a happy home.

  His arms disappeared but I kept my eyes closed, ignoring the emotion overload prickling my throat. As his boots moved on the snow, I listened, following as he moved in front of me.

  “Presley Marks. I love you.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “Good. Now look at me.”

  My eyes popped open, dropping to where Shaw knelt before me. In his hand was a black box, the diamond ring inside catching the last glimmer of the setting sun.

  “Will you marry me?”

  I giggled. “No.”

  He threw his head back, laughing to the winter sky before shooting to his feet and wrapping me in his arms. “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Haven’t you figured it out?” I whispered against his lips. “Sometimes when I say no to you, it really means yes.”

  Epilogue

  Shaw

  Seven and a half years later . . .

  “Huddle up.” I braced my hands on my knees as thirteen six-year-old boys circled around me.

  Across the huddle, Isaiah slid in beside his son, Asher. Like the other boys’, Asher’s eyes were on the grass. The whole huddle had slumped shoulders and pouting mouths.

  “It’s okay,” I assured them. “We have time for one more play.”

  The other team had just scored a touchdown to take the lead as the ref had given us the one-minute warning.

  We were in the first- and second-grade boys’ flag football championship game. These kids wanted to win so badly, but the other team was bigger and faster. Hell, it was a miracle we’d kept the game close because at the beginning, when they’d scored back-to-back touchdowns, I’d been sure we’d get crushed.

  But we’d clawed our way to a tie.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Asher.” I pointed to him. He was lean like Isaiah and damn fast. “You’re gonna take the snap. Fake to the left, then hand it off to Nico. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Asher said, then looked up to his dad, who gave him a sure nod.

  “You boys on the line, block.” I pounded a fist into my palm. “Hard. Don’t let those bigger kids get through.”

  Cheaters, more like. I’d been eyeing the defensive line on the other team. There were a couple kids who stood head and shoulders over our kids. More like third or fourth graders. And our team was predominately first graders.

  “Nico.” I turned to my son, who was standing at my side. His face was set and serious, the same look that Presley gave me whenever she was determined. “You’ll have the ball. You’re going to have to run all the way to the end zone. Do. Not. Stop. If you see a kid going for your flag, stick your hand out and block. Be aggressive.”

  “But Dad, Mom said not to do that anymore after the last game when I gave that kid a bloody—”

  “Forget what your mother said. She’s not the coach. I am. And we can win this game.” I put my hand into the huddle. “Panthers on three. One. Two—”

  “Panthers!” the boys yelled.

  A few kids ran to the sidelines while the rest followed me and Isaiah to the line of scrimmage. Isaiah shifted the linemen into the right place while I did the same with those in the backfield. Once everyone was set on both teams, I nodded to the ref, whose whistle was pinched between his teeth.

  Isaiah joined me downfield, watching as the boys waited for the play.

  “Shit, I hope we win,” I muttered.

  He nodded. “I’m so fucking nervous right now.”

  Neither of us had expected to end up as coaches for our sons’ football team, but when the youth association had asked for volunteers, it had made sense to step up. We both would have been here anyway watching practice, since Nico and Asher were the same age.

  Officially, I was the head coach and Isaiah my assistant. But that was to save him from getting bombarded with parent texts, something he refused to handle and I didn’t mind.

  We’d been playing games every Saturday morning for the past six weeks against teams from nearby towns. One weekend, we’d played in the pouring rain. The next, there’d been an inch of snow on the ground.

  But we’d lucked out for the championship. The October sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the blue sky, and the spectators along the sidelines only needed a coat to stay warm.


  That hadn’t stopped Presley from bundling up Noah like he was going skiing in Aspen. Our four-year-old son had shucked his coat five minutes into the game and was currently racing around in the open space beside the field, chasing Genevieve and Isaiah’s seven-year-old daughter, Amelia.

  Noah was obsessed with Amelia. She was the big sister he didn’t have but desperately wanted. Lucky for him, we shared life with our friends. We went camping each summer with the Reynolds crew. We had Thanksgiving with the Slaters.

  When our baby girl, Natasha, had been born in August, one month early, we hadn’t had to worry about what to do with the boys. Our family had been there to watch them while we went to the hospital, staying an extra four days longer than we’d planned.

  And they were all here to watch Nico and Asher’s football game.

  Bryce and Genevieve stood on Presley’s right. Dash stood on the left with his arms crossed. Xander and Zeke stood beside him in the row, their postures mimicking their father’s as they focused on the play. The boys had streaked black face paint under their eyes this morning to show their support.

  Not all that long ago, we’d been on the sidelines watching their flag football games.

  The whistle blew and the kids scattered, boys pushing boys as Asher caught the snap.

  “Fake,” Isaiah said, watching as his son did just that.

  Then Asher handed it off and Nico had the ball.

  I bit my lip, taking one step forward as he ran wide, skirting the line to the right. “Run, buddy.”

  Nico’s legs pumped. He had the ball cradled under his right arm so that as a defender came up on his left, he could give him the strong arm.

  The other kid tripped, falling into the grass as Nico kept running.

  He broke free.

  Asher was fast.

  But Nico was faster.

  “Go,” I chanted. “Go. Go.”

  “Go!” Presley’s shout carried through the air. “Run, Nico!”

  She was a tiny thing, but damn when she wanted to cheer for her kids, you’d need a megaphone to drown her out.

  “Run!” she screamed, covering Natasha’s ears in the baby sling strapped across her chest.